ANNA: I’m always so happy when I’m here, and never feel strange or despondent.

SARA: Me, too. So happy. The sound of all the kids laughing and screaming is so joyous, and doesn’t sound anything like nails on a chalkboard.

ANNA: I’ve never cried behind that tree.

SARA: Me neither.

(Pause)

ANNA: Tessa! Tess! Come on over here and put on your coat, O.K., sweetheart? It’s chilly out, and you need to put on your coat, O.K.? Your coat needs to go on your body. The fabric needs to cover your torso to help you maintain a proper internal temperature, or you’ll die, O.K., pumpkin? You’ll die of hypothermia, right here at the playground, unless you put your coat on. Your body’s going to start shutting down soon. It’ll feel like you’re getting sleepy for nap time, but you’ll actually be getting sleepy for dying. Get your God-damned coat on !

(Pause)

ANNA: Is that your little guy over there?

SARA: Yeah, that’s Sebastian.

ANNA: What a cutie. That’s my Tessa on the slide.

SARA: She’s adorable.

ANNA: Wait. I’m sorry . . . did I already ask you that?

SARA: Did you? I don’t think so.

ANNA: I’m so embarrassed.

SARA: Did I answer you again?

ANNA: I . . . don’t know.

(Pause)

ANNA: I feel funny sometimes.

SARA: It’s this place. It’s evil.

ANNA: I’m scared.

SARA: There are dark forces here. Powerful forces.

ANNA: And yet it’s the only place that makes sense to me anymore. Here and my bathroom.

SARA: Sometimes, when I’m in the sandbox, I can feel myself sinking, like something is pulling me down. I can feel the sand slowly surrounding me, suffocating me, and it feels good.

(Pause)

SARA: We should totally do a playdate sometime!

ANNA: Oh my God, it would be so great to do a playdate!

SARA: Maybe I’ll buy us a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Nothing wrong with the moms playing a little at a playdate, right?

ANNA: Nothing wrong at all.

SARA: Hey, I don’t know if you’re into it, but I bet I could dig up a little pot in the back of a drawer somewhere, it’s probably really old, but might be fun. Boy, listen to me, I sound like a total druggie! Ha.

ANNA: Ooh, no, that would be fun.

SARA: O.K., great.

(Pause)

ANNA: Just throwing it out there, I could probably score a line or two of coke if you wanted. We totally don’t have to.

SARA: Well, I like what you’re throwing! I’m definitely down for a bump or two. O.K., I’m just going to ask, do you have any interest at all in shooting a tiny bit of heroin? Oh my God, I’m such a bad influence! Ha!

ANNA: This? No, this is throw-up. Tessa regurgitated on me. But, applesauce or throw-up, what’s the difference, really? They’re both just things that get on your shirt that you lose the will to wipe off after a certain point, because either way you’re going to give yourself a haircut with a kitchen knife, right?

SARA: So true.

ANNA: There’s also string cheese in my hair, not sure if you saw that.

SARA: Last night, I found a cheddar Goldfish in my vagina.

ANNA: Wow.

SARA: Yeah.

ANNA: In it?

SARA: Right in it.

(Pause)

ANNA: Tessa! Honey! Share the slide, Honey Bear! We don’t own the slide, O.K.? We have to share, because if we don’t society will collapse and we’ll become no better than animals, tearing one another limb from limb just to survive. This playground and everything around it will deteriorate into a dystopian war zone, a lawless heap of smoldering ash. And guess what dystopian war zones don’t have? Slides. Share the God-damned slide !

(Pause)

SARA: Hey, look who just walked in.

ANNA: Where?

SARA: Over there, by Nanny Alley.

ANNA: Oh boy.

SARA: Stay-at-home Hottie McBjörn.

ANNA: Daddy’s home.

SARA: Daddy’s home, all right.

ANNA: Bad day for me to not shower.

SARA: Bad day for me to be twice my college weight.

ANNA: Oh my God, have you seen his wife?

SARA: No! You?

ANNA: She made an appearance here. Once. Working mom.

SARA: So sad.

ANNA: I know.

SARA: And?

ANNA: Meh.

SARA: He deserves more than that.

ANNA: So much more.

SARA: He’s hurting.

ANNA: You’d never know it. He’s so brave. And able. I saw him tie a water balloon with one hand before.